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Pasadena, Calif., July 31 - Ranger 7 radioed to earth today the first close-up pictures of the moon- a historic collection of 4,000 pictures one thousand times as clear as anything ever seen through
earth-bound telescopes.

Scientists here were hailing the achievement, which exceeded all expectations, as by far the greatest advance in lunar astronomy since Galileo.

They said the pictures not only represented a great leap in man's knowledge of the moon, but also, on a more practical level, lent encouragement that the lunar surface was suitable for Project Apollo's manned lunar landings.

Taken in 17 Minutes

The still pictures were snapped and transmitted in the last 17 minutes before the spacecraft into an area northwest of the Sea of Clouds.

They meant in effect that the 240,000-mile distance to the moon had been shrunk by man's ingenuity to a mere half-mile in terms of what he could see of its topography. They showed craters three feet in diameter and a foot to a foot and a half deep.

The best earthbound telescopes, handicapped by the shimmering mantle of the atmosphere, can shrink the lunar distance only to 500 miles and reveal features no smaller than about one-mile across.

The startling disclosures of what Ranger 7 had wrought were made at a packed news conference here by a team of scientists headed by Dr. Gerard P. Kuiper of the University of Arizona.

The conference, televised nationally, was held in the auditorium of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory of the National Aeronautics Space Administration.

"This is a great day or science," the eminent astronomer said at the start, "and a great day for the United States.

"What has been achieved is truly remarkable. We have made progress in resolution [clarity of pictures] not by a factor of 10 not by a factor of 100, which would have been remarkable, but by a factor of 1,000."

As a series of ten samples of the Ranger 7 photographs were flashed on a screen, Dr. Kuiper pointed out some of the more interesting features. Among the highlights of his recital and of answers both he and another member of the scientific panel made were
these:

A few hours' quick study of Ranger 7's massive output had not revealed that there were any totally unforeseen problems on the moon. But the numberless new details opened a region of knowledge that would keep scientists in deep study for three
of four years or more.

There was evidence that the white rays around some major craters were caused not by light fluffy material tossed up from the moon but by sizable rocks thrown off in the formation of these large craters. The rocks made numerous secondary craters deep enough
to represent an extreme hazard for a manned lunar landing in the area. Such areas were to be avoided like poison, Dr. Kuiper said.

The tentative impression of the scientific team was that the lunar surface dust or other substance was not thick enough to swallow an astronaut landing craft. Dr. Eugene Shoemaker of the United States Geological Survey at Flagstaff, Ariz., when asked
if he would like to step out on the moon, said:

"I don't think I'd be very worried."

The only interesting feature noted in the quick first look was a cluster in one of the pictures projected here of very many small craters showing a soft rather than a hard familiar outline.

Earlier, after a look at a few hastily processed Polaroid pictures, Dr. William H. Pickering said:

"They are several times better than any pictures of the moon we have seen before from the point of view of resolution. We will certainly see things on the final pictures that we have never seen before."

Dr. Pickering is director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The laboratory carried out the Ranger project.

Asked about details of the pictures, he answered:

"Well, if you mean were there any little green men, the answer is no."

Bernard P. Miller, Ranger manager for the Radio Corporation of America, which built the six television cameras, said his first look showed the pictures to be even better than expected.

Others who saw Polaroid samples, somewhat inferior to prints still to come from the finest top quality cameras used primarily, offered such assessments as "excellent" and "extremely clear."

The final prints were being processed with what was described as "tender loving care" in one of the finest Hollywood laboratories, and were expected to be considerably better in detail.

The lunar close-ups promised not only to multiply what man knows of the moon's terrain and its bleak history but also to remove obstacles to firm planning for the first lunar landing by American astronauts. The closest of the shots was snapped and
transmitted three-tenths of a second before impact, when Ranger 7 was just one-half mile from the moon.

The still pictures were the first photographs taken from a spacecraft of the side of the moon facing the earth. However, in October, 1959, the Russians photographed the far side of the moon- the side always hidden from the earth- with their Lunik 3 satellite.

But while these provided the first solid though not surprising evidence of what the hidden side looked like, the resolution or clarity was slight. It was much cruder than the resolution of telescopic photographs taken of the near side of the earth.

The Soviet pictures thus contributed rough outlines for the first far-side lunar maps, but no new understanding of the precise nature of the lunar terrain.

Ranger 7 told a different story.

Even the small-sized preliminary Polaroid shots gave assurance that man was on the threshold of new discoveries whose meaning could be enormous.

The best telescopes on earth cannot delineate objects less than a mile or more across. Hopes were that the Ranger 7 prints would pick up objects a small fraction of that size.

"If the objects are sharply defined, and there is sharp contrast from the shadows, we should see something down to about a few meters, about as big as a Volkswagen," said Harris M. Schurmeier, head of the laboratory's Ranger team.

Can End Some Doubts

The great potential value of such detail for Project Apollo was that it should clear some doubts remaining about whether the two-man "bug" being built for the first manned landings can safely do the job. Its spidery landing legs have been conservatively
designed with a wide-open stance and large feet to cope with a variety of lunar topography. It was understand that the bug could tip 15 degrees or more and still be in no danger of upset.

But there has been some concern that the smooth look of the lunar seas might be an illusion because obstructions less than a mile in width could not be distinguished by telescopes forced to look through the shimmering earthy atmosphere.

It has been thought possible that the seas, which have been believed to be the most hospitable places for putting down manned vehicles, might be packed with sizable rocks and ditches. These could cause a one-leg-up, one-leg-down landing that would topple
the vehicle.

It was not expected that the Ranger 7 pictures would give more than inconclusive clues on another critical issue. This has to do with the consistency of the lunar surface.

Is it soft or hard? If a soft layer of dust or pumice, is it deep enough to swallow a landing craft.

The triumph of Ranger 7 abruptly and happily ended a succession of 12 failures in 12 attempts by various United States agencies to put useful equipment on or near the moon in the last six years.

It was also a vindication of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, which had come in for painful criticism following the failure of Ranger 6 to transmit any pictures last February. Inquiries by NASA and Congress led to numerous design changes and a tightening
of the management structure.

It ended its elliptical journey of 243,665 miles at 9:25 A.M. today for an elapsed time of 68 hours 35 minutes. The moon, at its zenith in the early morning sky here, was at a line-of-sight distance of 228,000 miles at time of impact.

Perhaps because the laboratory had gone through so much travail in the past, the reaction here when the success of the mission became apparent was especially emotional.

Several hundred officials, newsmen and laboratory employees monitored the progress of Ranger 7 over closed-circuit television from the same auditorium where many of the same people had, last February, suffered what was perhaps the most shattering letdown
of the space program so far.

When the moment came to receive pictures from Ranger 6, after everything seemed as shipshape as on Ranger 7, nothing happened.

Leaders Saluted

When the moment came today, the signals were right on time, and it was clear almost immediately that their quality was good. The audience not only cheered but also stood on its feet in a remote salute to top officials who were still in various control
rooms.

They stood again and applauded and whistled when the officials finally arrived for a news conference.

Asked about the reaction in the various control rooms here and at Goldstone, Calif., these men repeatedly used a single word: Chaos.

Ranger 7's six slow-scan TV cameras began snapping their pictures and transmitting them about 19 minutes before impact.

The spacecraft altitude above the moon was about 1,000 miles.

They were able to supply some 4,320 still pictures before the craft wound up in a heap of rubble (some lunar explorer may some day mark it appropriately) just a few miles from the bull's eye chosen when the last rocket maneuver was made midway along
the flight path on Wednesday. The impact speed was 5,850 miles an hour.

The impact point was in what looks on existing lunar maps (they will have to be refined now) like an extension of the Sea of Clouds, Mare Nubium the classical Latin. The area was 10.7 degrees south of the lunar equator and 20.7 degrees west of the central,
north-south line as seen from earth. The nearest prominent moon mark is the crater Parry, to the east and slightly north.

The TV pictures pouring from the two 60-volt transmitters on the spacecraft were gobbled up by two 85-foot dish antennas at Goldstone. They were recorded by three methods, to play things as safely as possible.

Most important, the signals which looked to human eyes like a single point of light horizontally scanning a television tube, were immediately photographed by a special 35-mm. Kinescope camera whose shutter kept open just long enough for one complete scan.

A human eye could not see a picture on the tube because the eye requires several rapid scans to retain a meaningful image.

The succession of 35-mm. negatives were the ones destined for the archives and were promptly packed away in a refrigerator so that what was on them could not possibly be disturbed.

The second recording method used magnetic tapes. After painstaking calibration of the sensitive ground equipment, the tapes were played back and a second set of 35-mm negative rolls made in the same manner as the first.

It took five and a half hours to complete the calibration and re-run.

The third recording method involved taking quick-look Polaroid pictures, which can be developed in seconds, of the TV tubes as often as thought necessary. This was to give engineers a check from time to time on how the equipment was working so that they
could make any needed adjustments.

Engineers here said the grain of the Polaroid film was not as dense or fine as that in the primary 35-mm. films was more accurate.

The negatives made belatedly from the magnetic tapes were the ones that were to be studied by a team of prominent scientists here and later released to the public. The master set in the refrigerator would not be touched until the other sets had shown
technicians how to get the most out of them in processing.

The scientific team was headed by Dr. Gerard P. Kuiper of the University of Arizona. Its other members included Dr. Eugene Shoemaker, of the United States Geological Survey at Flagstaff, Ariz.; Ewen A. Whitaker of the University of Arizona, and Raymond
L. Heacock of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

Dr. Harold C. Urey of the University of California was also a member but he was not here for the initial analysis. He was reported in Europe.

The magnetic-to-film negatives were flown from Goldstone to Burbank and then rushed to Hollywood. Officials of NASA were secretive about where the laboratory was and, all in all, seemed to be guarding the precious film documents like gold bullion.

Two more virtually identical Ranger craft are scheduled to be launched early next year. But they will aim their camera eyes at different potential landing spots for Apollo astronauts.

The invaluable but still limited information from the Rangers will be elaborated on, starting about a year later, through the first "soft" lunar landing of a Surveyor spacecraft. This will put cameras down on the moon, and they will take their
time peering around the nearby moonscape.

The Surveyors also will scoop lunar soil, run it through ingenious mineral analyzers, and radio back to earth what they have found.

Finally, a third class of spacecraft named Lunar Orbiter will fill in the long gaps between the isolated locations photographed by Ranger and Surveyor. They will orbit the moon at about 20 miles altitude and take continuous strips of photographs of lunar
terrain.

Ranger 7 rammed into the moon at an angle of about 23.5 degrees from the vertical. Its six TV cameras looked out of a small opening at slightly varying angles averaging 38 degrees from the long axis of the spacecraft.

The difference in pointing angle of the cameras from the flight path of the spacecraft, which was [text unreadable] slightly, was about 7 degrees. This meant that the center of successive pictures would not be a single terrain feature, but would move
gradually across the ground.

Three of the six cameras were equipped with wide-angle lenses and the other three had narrow-angle lenses.

On only two of the six did the scanner run its beam over the entire face of the tube. The scanners on the four others scanned only the center portion, about 1-16th of the total frame.

This made it possible to scan more quickly, about 2-10ths of a second each scan. But it sacrificed much of the available image.

The full-scan mechanisms took 2.5 seconds for each operation but had the advantage of taking in the whole picture.

Today, everything worked flawlessly. The first full-scan pictures began arriving at the isolated desert antennas 80 seconds after the power had been turned on and technicians did their best to contain their great elation until their jobs had been done.

Fourteen minutes before impact, the warm-up command for the partial-scan cameras was issued by an involved sequencing system aboard the spacecraft. Eighty seconds later, its enheartening signals began arriving at Goldstone.